Page 5

Dernin

Blood dripped from Dernin’s knuckles as he slithered through the dimly lit corridor.

The familiar stench of sweat and iron filled his nostrils, a constant reminder of what his life had become.

His muscles ached from the fight, though he barely registered the pain anymore. It had become as routine as breathing.

“Another day, another victory,” he muttered, his voice hollow.

The words held none of the pride they might have six months ago.

He paused at a grimy mirror mounted on the wall, barely recognizing the hardened warrior staring back at him.

His golden scales, once gleaming with pride, now bore the dull sheen of resignation.

“Look at yourself. Some warrior you turned out to be.” He clenched his jaw, a habit that had only grown worse during his captivity. The corridor’s torches cast dancing shadows across his scarred torso. Each mark was a testament to his fall from grace.

His tail dragged slightly against the stone floor, leaving a faint trail in the dust. He’d stopped maintaining the proud posture of a Niri warrior weeks ago. What was the point? The only people who saw him now were other slaves and gamblers betting on whether he’d win or lose.

He shook his head. “Six months of fighting like a common street brawler.” The warrior code he’d lived by seemed like a distant dream now. Here, there was only survival, victory, and the next fight.

This was his world now, whether he liked it or not.

The flickering torchlight caught a flash of emerald silk and drew Dernin’s attention down the corridor.

His tongue flicked out instinctively, tasting perfume and fear in the air.

A human woman with hair like flames stood backed against the stone wall.

Her delicate hands were clenched into fists at her sides.

Bariv loomed over her, his bulky frame blocking any escape route.

“What is going on over there?” Dernin muttered under his breath, his jaw clenching as he observed the scene. The woman’s chest rose and fell rapidly, her breath coming in quick gasps.

Bariv’s slimy filaments writhed as he reached for a lock of her hair. The silk of her dress rustled as she tried to move away, the sound carrying clearly to Dernin’s sensitive ears. His scales bristled at the sight.

“Six months of standing by,” he growled softly to himself, his muscles coiling with tension. “Six months of watching. Not today.”

The woman’s blue eyes darted around, seeking help, and for a brief moment, they locked with his.

Something electric shot through him, awakening instincts he’d thought long buried under layers of survival and resignation.

This wasn’t just any human. Something about her seemed to call to the warrior he used to be.

His tail shifted, remembering his original mission on Jorvla. To protect. To serve. To guard human women from exactly this type of situation. The irony wasn’t lost on him.

The filaments on Bariv’s slimy skin undulated as he pressed closer to the woman, his vile intentions clear in every movement. Dernin’s hands curled into fists.

Something primal stirred in him, something that had been dormant since his capture. The need to protect. The need to fight for something more than just survival.

Dernin’s muscles flexed as he moved forward. Each motion was deliberate and controlled. The corridor seemed to shrink as he approached, his seven-foot-plus frame dominating the space.

“Step away from her, Bariv.” His voice cut through the tension like a knife.

Bariv’s filaments twitched as he turned, his bulk shifting to face Dernin. “Mind your own business, snake.”

“This is my business now.” Dernin’s golden eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. The scent of Bariv’s aggression filled his nostrils, mixing with the human woman’s fear.

“You forget your place here.” Bariv’s fingers flexed, his skin glistening in the torchlight. “Champion gets what champion wants.”

Dernin’s tail swept across the floor in a slow arc, ready to strike if needed. “Your title means nothing here. Back. Away. Now.”

“Or what?” Bariv stepped closer to Dernin, leaving the woman pressed against the wall. “You want to settle this now? Because I’ve been itching to put you in your place.”

The smart move would be to back down. Bariv hadn’t lost a fight in two years. There was a reason he wore the champion’s brand. But something in those blue eyes behind him made Dernin’s warrior blood sing. Made him remember who he was before all this.

“Last warning,” Dernin’s scales bristled, catching the torchlight. “Walk away with your dignity intact.”

“You threatening me?” Bariv’s filaments writhed with rage. “I’ll break you in half, snake.”

Dernin’s muscles coiled, ready for the explosion of violence he felt building. One wrong move and this would turn ugly fast. The champion was stronger, but Dernin was faster. If it came to blows...

“No threats,” Dernin said, his voice deadly calm. “Just facts. The lady isn’t interested. And you’re going to leave. Now.”

Bariv’s face contorted with rage, his massive frame tensing. The space between them crackled with potential violence, like the moment before lightning struck.

Heavy footsteps soon echoed down the corridor as a guard rounded the corner, drawn by their confrontation. “What’s going on?”

Dernin’s scales rippled with satisfaction as he caught the guard’s recognition of the human woman.

“The redhead’s off limits, Bariv,” the guard barked. “Direct orders from Fyret himself. No one touches her.”

Bariv’s filaments writhed with barely contained rage. “This isn’t over,” he growled, shouldering past Dernin. His bulk cast a shadow across the stones as he stalked away.

The guard’s boots scraped against the stone floor as he continued his patrol, leaving them alone in the torch-lit corridor. Dernin’s tongue flicked out, tasting a hint of rose—her scent.

“Thank you,” she said softly, her voice steady despite what had just happened. She kept her distance, those striking blue eyes assessing him with careful consideration.

“I’m Dernin.” He inclined his head, making sure to keep his movements slow and nonthreatening. His warrior training had taught him how to appear less intimidating when needed, despite his impressive height and build.

“Alaysia.” She pushed away from the wall but maintained the space between them. Her fingers twisted in her dress.

“Why did you help me?” The question carried an edge of suspicion that made his jaw clench.

“Because it was the right thing to do.” His golden eyes met hers. “And Bariv’s a piece of work who needed to be put in his place.”

She studied him for a few moments, her head tilted slightly. Something sparked between them in that moment—an understanding, perhaps, or recognition.

“You’re not like the others here,” she said, a statement rather than a question.

“Neither are you.” The words came unbidden, but they felt true.

Alaysia’s silk dress rustled as she took a small step closer to Dernin. His scales tingled at her proximity, every sense attuned to her movements.

“I watched you fight earlier,” she said, her blue eyes meeting his without fear. “The way you move... it’s different from the other fighters. More controlled. More purposeful.”

Dernin’s chest swelled with an old familiar pride. His tail shifted against the floor, maintaining perfect balance as he turned to face her fully.

“You know something about fighting?” The question came out deeper than intended, his interest piqued.

“I know enough to recognize skill when I see it.” A smile played at the corners of her mouth. “That last move, when you used your opponent’s momentum against him—that wasn’t just brute force. That was strategy.”

His jaw unclenched slightly. Most spectators only saw the violence, the blood. She had seen the art beneath it. “In true combat, strength means nothing without—”

“Alaysia!” Marcella’s voice cut through their conversation. The older woman hurried down the corridor, her practical shoes clicking against stone. “We need to go. Now.”

Alaysia’s spine straightened, though her eyes lingered on Dernin’s face. “I have to—”

“Now,” Marcella insisted, taking Alaysia’s arm.

Dernin watched them hurry away, his eyes tracking the flash of red hair until it disappeared around the corner. The scent of roses lingered in the air, teasing his senses.

The warrior in him recognized something in her—a fighter’s spirit wrapped in silk and beauty. But there was more. Something made his scales ripple with awareness and woke the protective instincts he’d thought buried under months of survival.

He needed to know more about her. About the woman who saw past the slave fighter to the warrior beneath.